


Runs In The Family

by orphan_account



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 03:05:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6035569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morty soothes his worries the way he sees his Mom and Grandfather do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Runs In The Family

Rick scowled at the heap of teenager slumped across his desk in the garage, grinning from ear-to-ear, reeking of whiskey. 

“H-h-heyyyy Rrrrrrrick!” Rick silently walked over to where Morty was seated. One of Beth’s wine bottles was uncorked and about half empty. Beside it, a can of orange soda, and one of Rick’s bottles of whiskey which was a little more empty than what he remembered, but a quick visual judgment made him hypothesize that Morty had only had a few shots.

“Whut!?” Morty weakly tried to shove Rick away as Rick picked up the bottle of wine to put the cork back in. 

“Morty, y-y-you’re drunk.” 

“Ye-ye-yeahhh-haha-so?” Morty glared up at Rick, trying to focus his eyes on the two swirling Rick faces that danced before him. “No fuck—fuck, I mean, no shit—haaa…” 

Plugging the wine bottle back up with the cork, Rick sighed as he looked down at the mess of his drunk grandson. As he stared intently at Morty’s face, he noticed red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes and wet eyelashes that looked like Morty had been crying for hours. 

“M-morty,” 

“No!” Morty nearly fell out of the chair and Rick put out a hand to steady him, but it was smacked away, “No, Rrrrrick, d-d-don’t say shhhhiiit to me about drinking, y-y-y-you fuckin’ alcoholic!” 

“Shut up, Morty, you—” 

“No, YOU shut up—” Morty stood up from the chair, and with one hand on the desk for support, he faced Rick and jabbed at his grandfather’s chest with his free hand as he drunkenly ranted, “What, I’m too young? You’re too old!” 

Rick brushed Morty’s hand off his chest and shoved his hands in his pockets to keep himself from shaking his grandson, “Morty, -eulchh- Morty, you don’t know what you’re d-d-doing, you’re—” 

“I do know what I’m doing!” Morty snatched the bottle of whiskey off the desk and wagged it in front of Rick, “I’m s-s-solving my problems j-j-j-just like you and mom taught me—” Morty held the mouth of the bottle up to his bottom lip and smirked at Rick, “drowning them in booze.” 

The comment stung more than Rick would care to admit, and he was thankful Beth wasn’t around to hear it for herself. He made no move to stop Morty, and instead watched with a bemused expression as Morty tipped the bottle back and choked down more of the amber liquid. His eyes watered, and his face turned beet read as he struggled to swallow about a shot and a half’s worth of 15-dollar Tennessee liquor. 

Lowering the bottle, Morty breathed heavily and fiercely glared at Rick, “A-a-aren’t you gonna stop me?” 

"I thought you said you we-weren’t gonna listen to me because I’m an –euurp- alcoholic, Morty.” 

Morty’s brows furrowed and his eyes squeezed up with angry tears, “D-d-d-don’t y-y-you—don’t y-you care that I’m drinking!?” 

Rick took his pocket flask out of his labcoat, enjoyed a long, slow sip, and then shrugged at Morty. “You-eughhlch-you stole a bottle from both me and your mother and-and you’re drinking out in the open, Morty. In the garage, where you would be easily found.” 

Morty put the bottle on the desk and crossed his arms, trying to look angry and tough, but the attempt was pathetic, “So!?” 

Rick flicked Morty’s forehead with his thumb and forefinger, “So, you wanted to be caught and stopped. When your mom and I get w-w-waste-eruugpp-when we get drunk we do it by ourselves Morty because we don’t want to be stopped.” 

Morty’s drunk brain struggled to follow along, and after a few moments of figuring out the train of thought Rick was insinuating, Morty’s face scrunched tighter still with anger and frustration as he glowered at Rick, “SO!??” 

Rolling his eyes, Rick shook his head, “Ah, the eloquence of a drunk…I know you want to be stopped, so I’m not g-g-gonna bother stopping you.” 

"You!” Morty’s arms shook by his side and he looked down at the floor, sniffling and breathing hard in short, sharp huffs. His head suddenly snapped up and he lunged at Rick, tears in his eyes, “You-you-you-don’t even care you-you-you fuck!” 

Rick avoided Morty’s tiny fist as it whiffed through the air right by his face. The lack of connection made Morty completely lose balance and he went tumbling to the hard cement garage floor. 

Rick winced as he heard Morty’s hands and knees smack against the ground, and he quickly leaned down to help him up, “M-morty, you ok—” 

 Morty suddenly heaved violently and vomited on the floor. His shoulders shook as he retched onto the ground in front of him and a mess of wine, whiskey, soda, and whatever bullshit lunch the high school had fed him ended up in a sloppy, smelly pike on the garage floor. 

"Ugh, Jesus.” Rick awkwardly knelt down and rubbed Morty’s back as Morty dry-heaved and sobbed on his hands and knees. “C’mon, Morty.” Rick helped Morty rock back to sit on his heels, and grabbing the hem of his shirt, Rick pulled Morty’s dirty t-shirt up and off him, using the clean fabric on the inside to hurriedly wipe his face free of vomit, before carefully picking up the teenager and heading inside. 

“Nooo…” 

“Shh.” Rick briskly walked upstairs and into the bathroom where he shut the door behind them and placed Morty on the bathroom counter. As Morty tried in vain to steady himself and his swimming head that flopped back and forth beyond his control, Rick made quick work of Morty’s clothes, stripping him down to nothing but his boxers. 

 Helping him stand, Rick turned around and switched on the shower, letting the water run until it was warm. With his back turned to his grandson to give him privacy, Rick pulled the shower curtain back a bit and gestured inside. “T-t-take your boxers off and hop in Morty. I’ll –urrppp- I’ll help you stand up if you need me.” 

“I don’t!” Morty snapped as he stepped out of his boxers and into the shower, trying to steady himself on the wall, before eventually giving up and accepting Rick’s extended hand to help him in. As soon as the water hit him, a second wave of nausea smacked into him, and Morty clutched his stomach as he vomited once more. 

“Hey, easy, easy.” Rick held Morty firmly by the shoulder and elbow as Morty wobbled back and forth under the stream of water. “D-d-d-don’t hold it in, Morty. Just puke if you need to, don’t b-b-be embarrassed.” 

“Nnghhn…” Morty leaned against the wet shower wall and turned his face into the direct stream of water, groaning as the warm water washed away his tears, his barf, and his dignity. 

After he awkwardly cleaned himself off, Rick helped him step out of the shower, wrapped him in a towel, and propelled him to his bedroom, holding him up as Morty drunkenly tripped and stumbled his way through the hall. 

Rick opened about a dozen drawers before he finally found clean boxers and t-shirts. He tossed the clothing at Morty and held his hand out for the towel. Morty slowly pulled his clothes on, and was about to complain, but before he could open his mouth, Rick turned him around and pushed Morty back through the hallway to his own room. 

Once inside, Rick pulled back the covers of his bed, shoved Morty onto the mattress and wrapped and tucked the comforter around his grandson. 

As he turned away, the weak voice of what sounded like a return to normal Morty whined from the bed, “Rick? D-d-don’t l-l-leave m-m-m-” 

Rick tousled Morty’s still-damp hair. “Relax, brat.” 

Rummaging around his room until he found an old extra portal gun he’d been meaning to fix, Rick returned to the bed, and after kicking off his shoes, climbed up on top of the covers and sat beside Morty’s snuggled up form. 

At this point, Morty figured there was no point in having any more shame, so he snuggled up to where Rick was seated, and as he lay on his side, threw his arm over Rick’s lap and squeezed tightly, so that his head was resting half on a pillow and half on Rick’s thigh. Warm, clean, and comfortable, Morty passed out seconds later. 

* * *

"Gnzzztt..” Morty coughed slightly as he rolled over onto his back. His head was pounding, his stomach hurt, and it felt like his joints were made out of lead. 

He started feeling around anxiously in the bed, “R-rick?” 

“I’m here.” 

Morty felt strong, lanky arms gather him up still inside the comforter as Rick pulled Morty close. “What time is it?”  

“4 am. D-d-don’t worry about school, while y-you were sleeping I told –uuurlchh- Beth that you were sick and needed to stay home today.” 

 Morty’s eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness to see Rick seated beside him in bed still, only dressed in a t-shirt and loose-fitting pajama pants. He closed his eyes and groaned. “Nnngg…is-is this wh-what a hangover feels like?” 

“Yeah,” Rick shrugged and ironically pulled out his flask to take a sip, causing Morty to recoil in disgust, “But you mixed red wine and whiskey together like an idiot, so you’re pro-eullch-obably enduring a much worse hangover than I usually get.” 

Morty turned his head and buried it into the side of Rick’s warm chest. He felt Rick initially stiffen at the touch, but then relax. Morty reached up and grabbed a fistful of Rick’s shirt in his hand. “So what happened?” 

Morty knew what Rick was asking but he played dumb anyway, “What?” 

"What happened at school yesterday?” Rick hesitated, and then gently rubbed Morty’s curly hair, kneading his grandson’s scalp with his fingertips, “S-some –urrp- some asshole knock you around, or s-s-something?” 

Morty heard himself answering in monotone, as he tried not to focus too heavily on the previous day’s events, “D-during gym, some of the jocks took my clothes out of my locker and pissed on them while I was in class.” Morty felt Rick’s fingertips falter for a moment before continuing, “When gym was over they took my gym clothes away and forced me to wear the piss clothes. When I came home, I just changed and…I just didn’t want to feel anything for a while.” 

Rick moved his hand down to rub the back of Morty’s neck, “Want me to murder them?” Morty seemed to consider it for a minute but shrugged, 

"Whatever, R-rick. It doesn’t matter. Infinite realities, r-r-right? There’s a reality where I beat the shit out of them for doing that…” Morty lifted his head up and looked into Rick’s face, searching with his eyes, “There’s a reality where I’m not afraid to just do what I want.” 

Seized by sudden resolve, Morty grabbed the sides of Rick’s face, and pulled him forward into a hard, but tender kiss.

Rick abruptly tried to shove Morty off, but Morty wrapped his arms around Rick’s neck with surprising ferocity, and continued kissing him. 

"Morty—Morty I can’t—I d-d-don’t want to—” 

 Morty stopped and leaned his forehead against Rick’s, “L-l-look Rick. I know you think I’m stupid, but I’ve seen the way you look at me…I’m n-not that stupid. I want this. Just love me like this tonight and we can go b-b-back to normal tomorrow. B-b-b-but I want—I need to not feel like shit after yesterday…even if it’s just for a couple hours.” Morty opened his eyes and stared into the icy gray once across from his, “Please Rick.” 

“Morty I don’t want to hurt you.” Rick’s eyes flashed dangerously as he pulled Morty even closer as he said this. 

 Morty shrugged, “Then don’t. J-j-just act like you care.” 

Rick placed a hand on the back of Morty’s head and drew him in for a slow, languishing kiss that took Morty’s breath away and send shivers through his body. “I do care, M-morty. I’m not going an-anywhere tonight, okay?” 

 Morty laid his head on Rick’s chest and listened to his heartbeat as he tangled up his arms and legs with Rick’s. “Okay, Rick.”


End file.
